


you've got a warm heart

by autopsyofwebs



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dom/sub Undertones, Face-Fucking, Lack of Communication, M/M, Slight Service Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 00:34:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1100375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autopsyofwebs/pseuds/autopsyofwebs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn’s been feeling restless and nothing helps and maybe Niall’s what he needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you've got a warm heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Regarklipop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regarklipop/gifts).



> ALI DARLING I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS MERRY CHRISTMAS/HAPPY WINTER! 
> 
> I maybe/probably should’ve made this happier but ah well. ALSO um I couldn’t contain myself as well and I ended up writing about 900 words above the word limit uhh but I came up with like 5 different prompts (one of them included cisgirl!thief!zayn and prince!niall that one’s v precious to me but I couldn’t take it any farther I’m still bitter about that) and I thought this would be the shortest but I was wrong idk it’s indulgent I’m trash blah blah blah Merry Christmas/Happy Winter everybody!
> 
> The title's from Medicine by Daughter since I was listening to that when I wrote a good majority of this fic.

 “-ayn, zayn? What d’ya think?”

Zayn looks away from the window. He’d been watching the rain drops race each other, stuck in a perpetual cycle of beginning to end to beginning. It’s been raining for weeks now and the rest of the boys have been bemoaning the inability to do anything, but Zayn finds it comforting. Maybe because it’s an excuse to sleep in, maybe because it feels calm in a way he’s been looking for.

Louis’ not looking at him. Zayn shrugs in response and mumbles something, but Louis just continues on, like he hadn’t said anything. He thinks he should feel bad and then wonders why he doesn’t feel anything at all.

He returns to watching rain drops.

-

The neon screen of his laptop pierces through the darkness as Zayn aimlessly surfs, flicking through twitter feeds quickly before opening and closing youtube. It makes him feel strangely guilty and restless, his hands twitching on his thighs before he clasps them together with a sigh. Something like _inadequacy_ but not quite _loathing_ nips at his heels.

He wishes the boys helped. They do sometimes, but not always. Not enough is the problem.   

-

The exhaustion presses into Zayn and turns his seeping energy into an anchor. His boys are yelling in the background, the excited inflection of reminiscence over some stupid sign or the roar of the crowd, as addicting as it always is, will probably always be.

He can acutely feel the sweat dripping down his back, collecting between his jeans and the curve of his hip. His body feels feverishly warm, but his hands are cold.

Someone touches his back and he turns around. Niall meets his eyes with steady eyes and a steadier grin. It’s not one of his usual ones, bright and effervescent, but a quirked, reassuring one. Rarer, but it softens his eyes from ice into sea-glass, a melting sharpness to them. He can’t smile back, but he feels some of the weight in his chest shift into something a little bit lighter.

-

He’s trying to muffle his groans with his palm, but they slip from between his fingers, desperate and low. The slick slap of his hand jerking off makes him flush in the quiet, but not enough to slow down or stop. When he comes, it’s with a slow blink and an arched spine, but he still feels too full, too empty. The dissatisfaction leaves him frustrated, but he can’t muster up enough energy to care.

He tucks himself back into his pants and breathes out. It’s cold now and he shivers, turning on his side. The frustration and sadness and _apathy_ that’s been building up the last few weeks rises up, a heavy weight settling over his face and his chest. The ache in the back of his throat yawns even wider and he’s forgotten what it’s like to breathe without it there.

He’s considering getting up for a smoke when Niall’s voice drifts into his bunk.

“Hey Malik, I need your help with something, come here.”

Zayn almost feels like petulantly refusing, too tired to pretend he’s capable of doing anything but lie there. Instead, he pulls on some shorts and rolls out of bed with a tired thud.

Niall’s calm face greets him and he settles a hand on Zayn’s hip briefly, before turning around and heading out of the bunks. It feels like the first point of contact he’s had all day and Zayn breathes in at the brief bloom of warmth.  

Niall stops at the counter, where there’s a line of baking supplies placed neatly next to each other.

“Haz was teaching me how to make cupcakes and I think I’ve got it but I need a helper, so you’re just gonna help me and then we can share the cupcakes with the boys when we’re done, yeah?”

Niall’s looking at him, his eyes unreadable, leaning back against the counter. His fingers tap on the countertop.

Zayn nods, and Niall touches his hip once more before nodding too and gesturing towards the eggs. His hands are steady when he hands Zayn a bowl.

“I’ll sift the flour and sugar and you beat the eggs.”

Zayn takes out the eggs one by one from the carton and cracks them carefully into the bowl. He tries not to make a mess, beating the eggs carefully with a wooden spoon. The rhythm of it is easy to fall into and he focuses on making it as smooth as possible. He wants to do well for Niall, doesn't want to ruin something else.

Niall doesn’t complain or tell him to go faster when he’s done, only waits patiently and runs a hand up and down his back. Zayn ducks his head when Niall thanks him, and breathes out slowly against the warm satisfaction that lilts through his chest.

-

Zayn can feel himself getting frustrated again. It’s the worst time as well, backstage an hour before the concert set to begin. Everything’s in chaos, and everybody’s too distracted and yet too focused on him.

 _He just wants a little space, wants to breathe past this jittery feeling crawling up his throat, under his skin,_ _wants to stop feeling like he’s shaking apart with every breath and_ -

“Come with me.”

Zayn doesn’t have time to react before Niall’s fingers are intertwining with his and he’s being dragged past Caroline, past the stage hands, past the boys into one of the empty dressing rooms.

Niall flips off the lights and the door closes behind them. The sudden darkness makes Zayn see spots and he blinks rapidly to adjust, confused and slighlty dazed. He’s so caught off guard that he doesn’t expect it when he suddenly feels Niall right against him, his warmth leeching through to replace the cold. Zayn flinches backwards in surprise and his back hits the wall, one of Niall’s arms coming up around him. He feels hot all over, doesn’t know if he wants to push Niall off or pull him closer.

Niall still hasn’t let go of his hand.

He’s so caught up in his thoughts that he startles when Niall runs his other hand up his waist and palms gently at his cheek.

“Breathe, it’s ok,” Niall whispers. “Breathe.”

His hand shifts to Zayn’s neck and Niall pulls him gently closer so he’s sandwiched between the wall and him. It’s so familiar and tactile and _warm_ that Zayn relaxes at the voice, sagging into the wall like a puppet with all of its strings cut. If nothing else, he can do this, he can breathe, he can be good.

He closes his eyes and just feels - the rough wall behind him, Niall’s slightly sweaty hand holding his loosely, his breath hitting his lips in gentle puffs, Niall’s other hand running gently down his waist, his fingers catching on his ribs as Zayn breathes in.

Niall leans in and trails his lips across his cheek, a soft touch to the nose, his forehead, the corner of his mouth. It’s disarming in a way where Zayn can feel himself settle into his body. Niall’s body is like a cocoon around him, blocking himself from the rest of the world, not in the muffling way where it feels like he’s alone but in a warm way, like he can finally breathe without everything else cluttered around him.

Zayn slowly opens his eyes and he feels more than sees Niall smile at him.

“Alright?”

Zayn’d be annoyed by how many times Niall’s asked him but it’s nice, having somebody ask instead of just being assumed to be.

Zayn nods, content to keep his silence. Niall slowly tips forward, barely brushing his lips against Zayn’s before pulling back. It feels like a _hello_ and an _ok_ and an _I’m here for you_ all at once. Zayn lets out a breath slowly.

He leans his forehead against Zayn’s. They stay like that until they hear Paul’s increasingly frantic yells calling for them, and then they slip out quietly with their hands clasped.

-

They’ve all just returned from a week long break. Zayn had spent it with his family, but at this point, a week had felt like several months, the long nights dragging out without easy laughter and pranks and loud jokes.

(On the fourth day, he woke up with an ache in his chest and he flipped on his phone and saw 4 other text messages - a pic from Harry from whatever party he’d stumbled into and stayed, a neon _miss you guys_ :( , a similarly garbled up message from Louis, a sentiment that comes out when he’s drunk or masking maudlin with being cheeky, a _we should definitely go to la together the comic shops here are wicked_ from Liam, and a _xx missing you doin alrite?_ from Niall, and he felt the buzz in his head settle for a moment, overcome with a rush of fondness and home.)

He’s been dozing on and off for about an hour now, tired but not sleepy, when he feels someone sit down next to him. His eyes blink open when he feels his bed dip.

“Hey, didn’t mean to wake ya.” Niall’s voice is gentle in the hush of the bunk.

Niall, out of all the boys, is the one who makes Zayn feel the softest he thinks, anchored with the want to feel big, but also capable of being small when he needs to be.  

Zayn snuffles tiredly. “Couldn’t sleep really.”

Niall’s silent so long that Zayn almost falls back asleep, but then he says,

“Mind if I sleep here too?”

It’s casual in a way that has to be calculated, but Zayn just hums, already turning towards the bunk wall and pressing forward for more room.

He can feel Niall hesitate and then settle across his back, a long line of warmth against his spine.

He settles a hand on Zayn’s hip and presses his nose against his neck.

“G’night.”

But Zayn’s already asleep.

-

“Hey um,” Zayn fidgets. “What are you doing?”

Niall gives him a contemplative look, and then,

“Just watching TV.”

He lifts his arm up and Zayn presses back a pleased grin, settles into his side.

Zayn pauses, curls into his body so his head is nestled in Niall’s neck.

“So uh, there’s nothing you need help with, or I don’t know, something –“

“I’m fine Zayn.”

Niall pushes a kiss to the side of his head. He shifts, and his hand settles under Zayn’s shirt and rests on his waist. His fingers are warm and calloused. Zayn leans into them, liking the way the rough tips catch on his side.

They turn their attention back to the TV. After 10 minutes, Zayn blurts out a quiet and rushed,

“Thanks.”

He doesn’t look at Niall.

Niall doesn't say anything, just grins and muffles another kiss obnoxiously into his cheek. It’s strange, they’re probably the most tactile of the group, but Zayn’s cheeks burn at the touch and he feels restless and hot for a different reason now. He casts his eyes downward.

Niall pauses, turns towards Zayn. Keeping his hand on his waist, Niall gingerly presses another kiss to his nose, the corner of his mouth, retracing his features over again slowly, except this time, Zayn can see the calm set of his eyes, the forgiving purse of his mouth. It burns, being so close to Niall, like reaching out and melting under the heat of a star.

Niall leans in and then pauses.

“Is this ok?”

Zayn gives almost an imperceptible nod, energy giddily jumping through his body so his hands are shaking just a little bit. Niall leans in and kisses him.

It feels like an extension of everything they’ve done, or maybe rather, like something they’ve been building up to, just another step further in their exploration of one another.

His lips are sure against Zayn’s, butter soft and warm like a beach in summer. It’s so easy to get lost in Niall, Zayn thinks, all that unexpected intensity and ease focused entirely on one person.  

Niall pushes at Zayn so his back falls against the cushions, the familiar and boyish smell making it feel both new and familiar. They exchange deep, slightly messy kisses; Niall’s obsessed with Zayn’s lips, can’t keep himself from sucking them into his mouth and Zayn’s just pliant, happy to let Niall do the work. Niall kisses Zayn for one last dizzying moment before he migrates to his jaw, sucking marks down to his neck.

He didn’t think Niall would, but he likes to nip, alternating between gentle and hard so Zayn’s constantly on edge. Zayn’s lips are swollen and a little bit ginger to the touch and he can hardly breathe, but it’s exactly what he’s been needing these past few weeks, the edge in his spine corroding away with every kiss.  

Niall isn’t letting up, just keeps going up and down his neck, biting gently at his neck and then harder when Zayn gasps out a moan. All of a sudden, he just wants to make Niall feel good, be as good for him as Niall’s been to him.

“Can I,” Zayn pauses. Flushes. “Can I blow you?”

The words come out awkwardly, like a jumbled afterthought that Zayn’s kept running through his mind on a loop. He feels too hot, and he just wants to be good and he wants Niall to feel good too so.

He trails his hand down, pushes down gently at the front of Niall’s pants and the blond groans.

“Ok.”

Niall kisses Zayn again for a moment, his tongue smoothing across his bottom lip. He pulls away.  

“Ok.”

It’s a reassurance for them both. He gently pushes Zayn down to his knees while he unbuttons his own pants, his hands fumbling. Niall’s breathing hard and Zayn nips at his belly, drawing a startled laugh out of Niall that relaxes some of the tension in his thighs.

Zayn smiles up at him. He pulls off Niall's trousers and pants together, awkwardly tossing them aside. Looking up, he grasps Niall’s cock slowly, his thumb coming up to swipe at his head. His nerves sing, but he wants this, wants to take care of Niall and have Niall take care of him too. Zayn leans in and sucks on his head for a moment, and then sinks down on his cock in one smooth slide, his heart in his throat.

His eyes slowly flutter shut and he slowly bobs up and down, one hand shifting down to grasp the base. It’s obvious that Zayn doesn’t have any experience, but he seems to quietly relish the series of lovely sounds he draws from Niall above him. Niall’s hands run restlessly through Zayn’s hair, clenching like he doesn’t want to pull too hard. Zayn suckles at his underside and Niall jerks, his grip tightening and pulling Zayn’s face even closer. Zayn loosens further with a muffled groan, just a warm, pliant pull at Niall’s cock.

Above him, Niall’s voice is an incoherent mumble of _doing so so good zayn love you love that pretty little mouth of yours_ and Zayn keens softly, feeling the praise settle warmly around him.

Zayn pulls back, a string of saliva connecting the head to his lips. He licks at it and then murmurs softly,

“Y’can fuck my face if y’want.”

Niall swears and his hand tightens in Zayn’s hair, pulling at it a little too hard. He looks at Zayn with equal parts hunger and fondness and huffs out a slightly disbelieving laugh.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” Niall lets out a shaky breath. “If it gets to be too much pinch my thigh alright?”

His voice is serious despite the husky quality that’s set in. Zayn nods and Niall looks at him one last time, his eyes searching Zayn’s face for something. He must see what he’s looking for because he gives a smile bordering on a smirk and takes a firmer hold of his hair.

Niall inches in it at first, gentle thrusts that barely graze his throat, but then Zayn hums around his throat and Niall’s hips stutter forward, like he can’t help himself. He can’t really - it’s Zayn offering himself to him, trusting him to take care of him, to tell him what to do, and both their eyes water at the intensity of it.  

Zayn chokes around him after Niall gives a particularly deep thrust, but then he moans, his eyelashes matted with tears. He starts shifting restlessly, but then Niall pulls hard at his hair and keeps his head there as he starts to fuck into his mouth in earnest. His hands flex on Niall’s thighs and Zayn tests his hold, but he’s held in place, kept there for Niall’s use. It sends a sharp thrill of arousal through his chest and Zayn melts, a warm glow settling around his peripheral.

He barely notices it when Niall swears above him and pulls his dick out, only coming back to attention when Niall starts jerking off in front of him, his movements fast and desperate. Zayn closes his eyes when come paints his mouth and his chin, and then blinks them slowly open as the sound of Niall panting above him comes into focus.

Niall immediately kneels down and kisses him, smearing his come between them but Zayn doesn’t mind. Everything’s a bit languid and sweet, and he’s finding it hard to mind much of anything right now.

“Hey, you ok? That wasn’t too much was it?”

Niall’s eyes are focused despite his quick breath and his sweaty forehead. Zayn shakes his head, tucks his face into Niall’s neck. His words are muffled and sleepy when he says,

“I’m good, just wanna rest for a little bit now.”

His voice scrapes against his throat, but it’s a good kind of rawness, satisfaction instead of vulnerability. Zayn feels his breathing settle back into place, a soft feeling of contentment spreading and loosening his limbs. The last thing he remembers is the feeling of gentle fingers carding through his hair and a warm kiss pressed to his cheek. 


End file.
